Abandoned
by TackAttack
Summary: When Lee Fletcher asked for a quest, he did not mean this.


**Written for the Survival Competition, hosted by of the seas.**

**I do not own PJO.**

**Week One**

Stupid, stupid, stupid! He kicks the sand, then winces and turns away as the particles bite into his sunburned skin.

Then he looks around at the island he's woken up on.

He's only twelve, for the gods' sakes. When he asked for a quest , he did not expect this. Apollo went quite a bit over the top this time. He's probably watching him right now, waiting to see if he's got what it takes to win.

He sighs in defeat. No way to go back now. The only way out that Lee can see is forward. He takes another look. In another's eyes, it might be pretty, but he's got survival on his mind here. A forest of palm trees. Craggy cliffs and a strip of unforgiving beach. A bunch of birds he can't name swoop and caw incessantly. The sun burns down on him. It's got to be over one hundred degrees, and humid taboot.

He's tempted to rip his shirt off, but he settles for splashing sea water over his whole body. Soaked to the skin, he's ready to face his first challenge. Water. He can already feel the thirst burning in the back of his throat, and it'll only get worse as the hours pass. Dehydration happens faster in humid climates.

He digs in his pocket and comes up with a golden drachma, a piece of string, and a guitar pick. Totally useless, except for the drachma, except there's nothing to make a rainbow with, and even if there was, he'd bet his right hand that Apollo won't let any calls get through. Iris has to listen to the major gods.

He tosses the drachma into the water in disgust, and the clear waves wash it away, out to sea. He looks out at the thousands and thousands of gallons of salt water, inwardly crying that none of it is drinkable.

Then he turns, looking into the jungle of palm trees. He makes up his mind, and starts inside.

The large flat palm leaves create some shade from the relentless sun, cooling the air by a few degrees.

He stumbles every few feet, tripping on roots and sticks. The jungle seems to be alive with creatures. _There must be water here somewhere, _he thinks.

A cut appears on his forearm and a thin line of blood appears. He swipes it away. He doesn't realize until too late.

A Cyclops looms out of the foliage, his single eye hungry for blood.

Lee stumbles away, grabbing for a bow before realizing he doesn't have one. He was sleeping when Apollo transported him here.

"Welcome, Lee Fletcher. I do not often have a such a pleasant surprise as you. Come with me."

It's the voice of his mom, plucked right out of his head. He fights back the tears. His mom died a year ago, victim of the monster attack that had sent him to Camp Half-Blood.

_This is a Cyclops, _he reminds himself. _It's not Mom. It's a monster who's using her voice as a lure. _But its still a struggle to force himself to ignore the sadness that rushes through his body. "I can't." The Cyclops looks at him strangely, probably trying to decipher what he just said. He desperately searches the jungle ground for something, anything. A stick! He stands upright and hurls the wooden branch at the Cyclops.

Him being the son of Apollo and all, his aim is perfect. The monster howls in pain and rage, his hands clutching his wounded eye.

Lee turns and runs, runs for his life. The Cyclops bellows at him, but doesn't take chase, and Lee ends right back where he started, hot and thirsty on the beach.

If only he could somehow cleanse the water of the salt and make it drinkable. He had heard you could do something like that from the Athena kids, but he'd never actually heard of what it was that you did. He snarls in frustration.

Then he takes off, along the beach and craggy cliffs. He's soaked in sweat, a really bad thing, because it means he's losing fluids faster than ever.

The sun burns down at him, frying him to a crisp. His breath comes in panting thrusts. There _has _to be water here, on this island. Apollo wouldn't let him die, would he? He wouldn't put him on the island, knowing there was no water, in effect murdering his own son.

A rustling sound draws his attention. A deer? He freezes, looks into the Cyclops lair/palm tree forest. Should he venture in?

He grabs a pointed stick and tiptoes to the beginning of the woods. A startled bird takes flight, cawing indignantly.

A drop of glittery, shining drop of something falls to the forest floor. Lee's at the place the drop fell in an instant, fingers scraping the bone-dry dirt for the bead, because if it's what he thinks it is…. Yes!

A stream of crystal clear water bubbles from the crack of a large stone. Nothing has ever tasted as good as the luke-warm water. He splashes his face as well, then looks around at his surroundings.

One challenge down, many more sure to come.

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